Old Habits Die Hard
by Tango Eight
Summary: When Dean was in hell Sam had to learn how to protect himself, and sometimes, old habits die hard. Hurt!Dean and Sam angst.


**Old Habits Die Hard**

Four months.

That was how long Sam had to live without his brother; four long, hellish months of being alone.

His whole life his big brother had been there, sleeping in the next bed, two feet away, and always closest to the door. That was the sole reason Sam was able to sleep at all. Knowing his brother was right beside him, ready to protect kept Sam feeling safe. Dean also always kept a knife under his pillow, one hand always on the knife. When Sam was younger, he's always been confused about that. Before he knew what was out there, Dean having a knife or a gun under his pillow was a conundrum. Now, then he found out fast it was survival.

Four months.

That was how long Sam had to live without his brother's protection. He learned quickly how to protect himself. Now, Sam slept with a knife under his pillow, one hand always tightly gripping the handle. Even when he was asleep he was never really asleep. He was always listening, always waiting.

Two months.

That's how long it took after Dean's death. That's how long Dean had been in hell, before Sam ever needed to use that knife, which was Ruby's demon killing knife.

Sam was sleeping in an old motel room. Not really sleeping, just a facsimile of sleep. Hand under pillow, gripping the knife securely. His security, his safety since his brother was no longer there.

He had been hunting down a demon, not unusual, but this time they found him first.

He hadn't been "sleeping" long. Maybe an hour or two; but nonetheless the door started creaking open. Sam was usually awake immediately to any noise, but this night was different. This time, he didn't wake up immediately. This time he didn't wake up until it was almost two late.

The human-possessing demon quietly made his way into the room, inching forward towards the sleeping hunter.

Sam was asleep, until the demon stepped on a lose floorboard by his bed.

Creak.

Sam's eyes snapped open. Hand tightening on the knife's handle. Finely tuned reflexes in action he turned and before the demon knew what was happening, he plunged the knife to the hilt in the possessed man's gut.

The demon stumbled backwards, staring down at the knife handle. Black eyes lifted to meet green ones; face frozen in an expression of shock and confusion.

Suddenly his head was thrown back as yellow light engulfed the possessed man, it always sounded like lightening, Sam thought to himself. Once, twice more the yellow light erupted before the black eyes dimmed back to the brown eyes of the previously possessed man.

The man fell, very much dead.

Sam sat there, staring at the dead man on the floor of his hotel room, and decided right then and there, he was never going to make a mistake like that again.

Little did he know, his next mistake, would be so much worse.

Four months.

Dean had been back for four months.

Now Sam could sleep again, except for the nights when he had nightmares of Dean dying. Too many times he had to watch that happen in real life, now he had to watch it happen almost every night in his sleep.

Dean noticed his brother was scarred. Almost every night Dean was woken up by Sam in the midst of a nightmare. At first, Dean tried to wake him up. Protect him from the demons in his own mind. It never seemed to help, so now he just lays there, giving silent support to his distressed brother.

Four months after Dean was resurrected, one of Sam's nightmares got bad. Dean woke up that night to the sounds of his little brother screaming.

He was out of his uncomfortable, motel room bed and at his brother's side in less than two seconds. He didn't know that Sam still kept a knife under his pillow because old habits die hard. He also didn't know about Sam's interaction with the demon sneaking up on him in his motel room. He also didn't know that when Sam was in the middle of a nightmare he was completely unaware of reality and whatever time his nightmare took place, that's what time he thought he was in. This particular nightmare was set about two months after Dean was killed and sent to hell.

Dean didn't know any of this as he raced to his brother's side; one floor board creaking under his weight as he leaned over Sam, ready to wake him up.

Little did Sam know, in the grip of a nightmare, that this time the floor board was stepped on by his brother and not the demon that had come to visit him all those months ago.

Creak.

Sam's eyes snapped open. Hand tightening on the knife's handle. Finely tuned reflexes in action he turned and before Dean knew what was happening, he plunged the knife to the hilt in his older brother's gut.

Dean stumbled backwards, staring down at the knife handle. Green eyes lifted to meet matching ones; face frozen in an expression of shock and confusion.

Oh God, no! Sam thought as he stared in horror at his brother, standing before him with a knife in his gut.

He was up and catching his brother before Dean's legs gave out and he fell to the ground. Sam's knees hit the floor hard as his brother landed in his arms. Sam pulled Dean up against him so that he was leaning with his back against Sam's chest.

Sam's eyes filled with tears as he looked down at his brother who was now taking in harsh, gasping breaths, hands gripping the knife handle, blood leaking out from around the blade still plunged deep.

"Oh God, Dean, I am so sorry. Please hang on. Don't leave me again, I am so sorry!" Sam said clutching his dying brother in his arms.

Dean's leaned his head back against Sam' shoulder so he was looking right up into his younger brother's face.

"S-Sam?"

The sound of his brother's voice broke Sam's heart, ripped his heart right in two. There was so much pain in his voice but there was also love and forgiveness.

"Dean, I'm here. You have to hang on."

"…Kay?"

Sam couldn't believe his ears. He had just stabbed his brother and now that same brother was asking if he was okay?

"Dean, I'm fine." Sam said as he reached up to the table by the bed and grabbed his cell phone dialing a too familiar number.

"_911, what's your emergency?"_

After giving the necessary information he hung up the phone and brought his full attention back to his bleeding brother.

Dean's face was ghostly pale, his eyes were at half mast, and his mouth was set in a tight line of pain. Breathes were sawing in and out of his nose. It was obvious he didn't have much time.

Sam continued to hold his shaking brother, arms wrapped around his torso, a discarded shirt from earlier wrapped around the knife, hands keeping constant pressure around the blade.

Dean's hands were resting on top of his, blood covering them.

Where the hell is that ambulance, Sam thought quietly as tears continued to slide down his cheeks and land in his brother's short hair.

Suddenly Dean gasped and his back arched against Sam's chest.

'Dean?" Sam asked, concern making his voice crake in half.

Dean just continued to gasp, his eyes tightly closed as waves of pain crashed through his body.

Sam backed away so he could lay his brother down on the ground; arms anchored putting constant pressure around object in his brother's gut, blood continued to seep through the old t-shirt soaking Sam's hands.

"Dean, come on." Sam begged his brother, desperately.

Dean opened his eyes to small green slits.

"Ssss...mmy…l…love….y…yo….." He tried to get out before his head fell to the side and the hand that was on top of Sam's again fell away. His eyes fluttered before remaining shut.

"No nononono, come on Dean. Open your eyes, don't go to sleep! Dean!" Sam's desperate cries filled the small room as the door flew open and three paramedics rushed in. They pried Sam away from his brother and quickly got to work.

One put an oxygen mask over Dean's nose and mouth, an IV went into the crock of his arm, and pressure was placed around the knife before he was placed on a back board and whisked out of the room.

When Sam tried to go with him, the paramedics stopped him. Something about there not being enough room but he could follow.

Then they were gone, and Sam was alone again.

This time, however, he was covered in Dean's blood. He was covered in Dean's blood because he had stabbed him. How could he have done that?

Sam grabbed the keys to Dean's beloved Impala and headed towards the door. When he reached the threshold he turned around and stared at the spot between the beds, the huge puddle of Dean's blood, and decided right then and there, he was never going to make a mistake like that again.

End.

I'm so excited! My first Supernatural story! I hope I did it justice. Please tell me what you thought, good, bad, or indifferent! Reviews are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading my story, I hope you enjoyed it! I didn't proofread this story so please just disregard any mistakes. Thank you!

~Tango

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural and I am not making a profit from this story.


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